Among the Roses
by Arurim Dhasku
Summary: Artemis meets Death before getting a new body.


**This could possibly be continued, but probably not. Artemis meets Death.**

* * *

Artemis looked down at Fowl Manor from his place among the newly grown roses. It was no doubt a picturesque seen, but it was quite boring. There wasn't a whole lot he could do without a body. All he got was some sort of projection of his self image, and he was the only one seeing it.

He could feel the tug of the beyond, telling him to move on, but he put his formidable will to use. No mere laws of nature would stop Artemis Fowl II. Not when there was a chance he could stay.

He could still think, at least. As a ghost, of sorts, he had to wonder about the afterlife. What he was being tugged towards. As far as religion went, he'd always been an agnostic. Truthfully, he'd avoided the issue, preferring to focus on the more tangible aspects of life- namely, personal wealth. Why waste time on a question that can only truly be answered in death? But now that he'd found there truly was at least something afterlife, he'd been forced to contemplate what was next.

If there was some sort of morality based sorting of souls, he was 73% certain that he would come out on the better end of the spectrum, what with the self sacrifice. Those were not particularly good odds.

Sometimes he wondered what the powers that be would think of his attempt to cheat death. Sometimes he wondered if his friends were even trying to resurrect him.

Sometimes he wondered if he should really stay on this plain of existence at all.

If he had breath left in his metaphysical body, he would have sighed. Instead, he just brushed his thoughts off to the side and thought about other things. But they would come back. Every day. Sometimes, being a genius meant you thought too much.

As time passed, the days began to blur together. Sometimes Artemis would see Butler, or Juliet, or his family, from his place in the roses. The pull became stronger, and he began to think maybe he would be better moving on. But he always decided against it.

Then one day, something- or rather, someone- came to break the monotony. It was a tall, rather emaciated man in a white car. Artemis noted that he wore an Armani suit, much to his approval. He had a cane with a silver tip and a ring on his finger that drew the eye. The most peculiar thing was that he was looking straight at Artemis.

The man got out of his car and walked towards him. Artemis stood up uneasily. For some reason, the pull was suddenly far stronger. "Hello? You can see me?"

The man looked annoyed. "You didn't think you'd be allowed to stay here forever, anchored to this flower patch?"

Artemis blinked. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

"Death." The man said it in such a matter of fact way that Artemis had to believe it.

"Death? There appears to be some sort of backup in your system, because I've been here for… a long time." He paused as a thought crossed his mind. "I don't suppose you can collect multiple souls at the same time? And what about animals?"

The man looked more irritated. "Well, I generally have my reapers collect souls on my behalf. Yet for some reason, none of them can come within 200 yards of you. So now I've personally come to collect you."

Artemis frowned. "I apologise for the inconvenience, but you need not have come so far. The reason I died was paperwork, really. I was supposed to only lose an eye. I have a body in the works, and expect to be corporeal within months."

Death appeared to be looking at something. Then he glared, looking almost put out. "Another one of those hero types, is it? Saving the world, sacrificing themselves, then inexplicably coming back to life. Why do I even bother?"

Artemis winced. "It's not truly a sacrifice. I prepared for it properly. I do expect to be back here within several decades."

He paused for a moment. Then nodded. "At least you went through the proper channels. Died from a loophole, planned your resurrection ahead of time, and grew an actual living body. Practically a rebirth. All very legitimate. I mean, the Winchesters usually make some sort of demonic deal or literally _deus ex machina_ their way out of it." He laughed. "Clones! Who knew what fairies had been up to all this time? I only need one reaper for them, they die so rarely."

"Who are the Winchesters?"

Death waved his hand dismissively. "Americans. Brothers. Quite honestly, those two have died and come back perhaps a dozen times between them, not counting the repeating Tuesday. It's quite ridiculous." He shook his head. "They even think they've killed me, and I've been around since the beginning. With my own scythe, as well!" He chuckled.

Artemis wisely decided not to ask anymore questions. "I'm sure you have important business elsewhere. I wouldn't want to delay you."

Death nodded. "I suppose I'll let you live. The heroes always find a way back, anyways. Are going to die properly next time?"

Artemis nodded wordlessly. Death nodded back. Then he drove off into the sun, leaving Artemis standing among the roses.


End file.
